My daddy is dead
 and can't hold back my sorrow.
 The rosary of memories together
 sparks in insomnia .

 The little boy in the attic
 puts away its capsules and its Tour de France riders. 

 The " gargoyle " childhood laundry
 is nothing more than a rusty basin
 " Frugères - my loves " crumples in the mists
 with an autumn look .

 A new day will dawn
 the spider web adorned with dew beads.

 Footsteps creaking the floor
 are the last passage of your presence .

 Nous ne retournerons plus les crêpes
 accompanied by the joyful cries of the youngest .

 The flight of wild geese
 will no longer be expected like the first time.

 The " four horses " Renault
 will no longer be wearing our bikes .
 
The trumpet will be killed
 behind the bedroom door  .

 A page is turned
 now there is life .

 Heat the vegetable and the mineral in the oven
 for the candles of the essential to rise .

 Crossing the ford is worth it
 for vulnerability to happen .

 Take hold of the stump of memory
 and that without haste the drawer closes .

 Let us become light and luminous mind
 so that hands clasped .

 Wise and open to what comes
 let's be beauty smugglers .

 Downright offered to what is let's be the throat 
and the language of new foods .

 Sing in the cool spring wind
 the andante of a free breath .

 Welcome with ready hearts
 the energies of a mystery hatched world .

 Passenger of time and bird of truth
 I am addressing you .

 Those who follow, my children ,
 let's unwind our ball of life and walk  .

 Without fear, the heart surrounded by the joy of the righteous
 let us be the straw and the grain of the harvests to come  .


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